Mercedes long legs strode through the bar. Every mans head in the joint turned, and you could almost hear their penises growing collectively as they stared at her petite physique packed up in the tiniest scarlet bikini theyd ever seen. Her pert bosoms rose prominently before her; the curves of her slender waist were an object lesson in instant seduction; and her firm behind exuded something even more intense than mere sexuality  something that was almost akin to an urgent, imploring demand to be fucked.

However, Mercedes deep brown eyes never diverted from their course as she made her way through the testosterone-heavy bodega and into a backroom, where Harry was waiting for her. Hed never met Mercedes before, but his exhibitionist tendencies were sufficiently pronounced that he felt totally comfortable with greeting her while completely naked, and with a pair of handcuffs already connecting his wrists. Harry was a naughty boy, and he wanted his fuckin punishment. Mercedes advert had aroused him like nothing he had experienced in years, with its promises of complete humiliation and belittlement. Speaking with her on the phone had only intensified his feelings; Harry hoped that he had finally made contact with the one woman in the world who could help him to realize what a dirty, snivelling, unworthy little fool he was.

Nice cock, Harry, Mercedes stated by way of an opening gambit while looking at his floppy yet wonderfully fat manhood, ..but mine is nicer!

At which juncture, she pulled out the most incredible weapon the world has ever known. It was sixteen inches of oh my fucking God, and Harry was about to get it all. Made of solid silver and encrusted with endless rows of studs, it took only a single sharp and silent blow to Harrys head to send the horny little sub into a state of permanent submission. Mercedes smiled as she replaced the deadly dildo into her bag, turned on her oh-so-sexy heels, re-entered the bar, and made a sensuous exit that was every bit as grand as her entrance had been barely two minutes previous. She left inches of rigidity between the legs of the men sat around the place, none of whom could ever have imagined the incredible sex-crime that Mercedes had just committed a few feet away from them all.

The incessant ringing of the alarm clock caused Mercedes to groan. Was it 9 a.m. already? Damn, how she loathed those schmucks who made morning appointments. Actually, she was not due to meet with Peter until midday, but it would take Mercedes that long to be fully satisfied about her appearance. Mercedes was a perfectionist who planned everything in meticulous detail, and this was doubtless one of the main reasons that she would never be caught.

Checking out which of her online advertisements had enticed Peter to avail himself of her services, Mercedes noted that she needed to be a green-eyed blonde today. And so commenced the lengthy transformation, to which make-up, wig, and contact-lenses were merely the finishing touches. Once she was done, Mercedes knew that she looked way beyond wonderful, and that she could yank any man off any street and have her wicked way with him if she so desired. But that wasnt what she desired at all; she wanted to snuff the middle-aged guy with whom shed chatted and laughed both via email and on the phone. Her victims were no mere random choices; the dildo murders were carefully orchestrated acts of vengeance.

Julia?, Peter enquired as he walked up to Mercedes in the hotel foyer.

Yes, she lied  insofar as acknowledging her nom de guerre for the day could be considered a lie  and you must be Peter! Oh, you look every inch as good as Id hoped.

While Harry had yearned for whips, chains and verbal abuse, Peter was a gentleman of the old school, in need of wining, dining and erudite conversation prior to a romp in the sack of his penthouse suite. And as Julia dazzled him over lunch with her ability to speak intelligently on everything from last nights news stories to the intricacies of baroque music, he fell in love with her just a little. Even before their bodies had had a chance to bang against one another, he could sense that she was no ordinary prostitute, but rather, a highly sophisticated woman who took real joy and pride in her work.

How much greater, then, was Peters bemusement as he lay naked on the bed and suddenly saw the sixteen inches of awesome, powerful destruction hurtling towards his face. This final, intense image of violence would be captured in his retinas and would escort him into oblivion. During his lifetime, Peter might well have commented what a way to go! if he had heard such a ludicrous tale of someone elses demise  but for a man who was as straight as they come, being bludgeoned to death with a massive metallic phallus was probably not the kind of epitaph he would have considered ideal.

If Peter had been straighter than straight, then the third day of vengeance offered an interesting kind of equilibrium, in that its victim was queerer than Ricky Martin and Lance Bass rolled into one. Still, that was something of a relief to the killer. No need to spend hours getting dressed up for this rôle. For sure, Mercedes had long been a part of Charlies life, a kind of Sister Hyde who sprang forth to accompany his Doctor Jekyll side; but at the end of the day, he was still more comfortable living life as a man.

Charlie stood out like a beacon of youthful beauty in the middle of the Irish-style pub, which was in fact a gay bar with a clientele made up mostly of leather queens and daddy bears. The lone pale, slender twink amid a grinding ocean of muscular and hairy torsos, he caused dicks to harden and guys pulses to race every bit as much as he had done when playing Mercedes two days earlier. Only now he got to show off an additional asset; his unmistakable bulge  it was clear to all that a plentiful number of inches had been packed away into his tighter-than-tight jeans, and in the eyes and minds of all the men ogling him, those inches were now positively screaming to be let loose. Whether the guys wanted to suck em or be topped by em  they all fuckin wanted em, as though possessing them would somehow bring a level of inner fulfilment beyond anything that they had so much as dared to imagine possible.

However, Charlie had but a single quarry today: Rod, an awesome looking daddy with a seriously worked-out physique who had been around the block more times than a jogger running in circles. Rod had sent Charlie an email after seeing his profile at fuckmytwinkie.com, and the pair had been corresponding and exchanging ever raunchier photos of one another ever since. Now, it was time for them to find out whether they measured up to each others expectations, both in terms of the sexual fantasies they had discussed at length in their emails, and in terms of the well-above-average scale of endowment that both claimed to have.

Staring, enraptured, at the mountain of manhood between Charlies legs, Rod felt sure that the pair were indeed dealing in ruler-inches rather than cyber-inches. His own dick grew to its fullest length, and continued to gain in rigidity as he worshipped Charlies beautiful cock with his lips, tongue, mouth, and throat. Once he had gotten the twink as hard as he was ever going to get, Rod wanted to flip him over and fuck his well-lubed ass into another galaxy. Charlie told Rod that he always carried extra large Magnums with him, and that he now desired to unfurl one along the full extent of the latters engorged member.

Daddy Rod scarcely had time to figure out what was going on when, instead of a packet of condoms, bottom-boy Charlie produced the weapon from his bag. Oh my fucking God!, Rod yelled, as the dildo of doom dealt diabolical death. Charlie roared with laughter, Strike three! Youre out!. His vengeful spree was half-way over. Soon, he could rest, knowing that the world had again been put to rights.

The motel owner greeted Mr Fernández with a firm shake of the hand, and welcomed him to the city for the night. He showed the young Latino where his room was located, and then retired to the back-office to jerk off about the vision of lust he had just touched. Lean, dark-haired, olive-skinned, and with the most piercing sienna-brown eyes, Carlos Fernández was about as close to the motel owners dream man as any guy upon whom the latter had ever laid eyes; and knowing that the hand he was using to bring himself off had just been entwined with Mr Fernándezs five powerful fingers was all he needed to experience an orgasm as sticky and intense as a dozen plates of fudge brownies.

Safely inside his room, Charlie laughed anew at his latest appearance. It was frankly too convincing, even by his own impeccably high standards of disguise. He telephoned Kyra and gave her his address for the night. She said that it was only a few blocks from her apartment, and that she would drive over immediately to finally meet the man with whom she had been flirting online for well over three months. In her heart, she had long feared that he must be a faker and that, consequently, the two would never meet up  the hyper-intelligent, suave stud-muffin he portrayed online just seemed too perfect to be true. But it appeared that she was now going to be able to cash in her fantasy chips for a real-life pay-out, complete with the prospect of some no strings passion in his motel room. To be sure, the whole thing had the ring of a hackneyed porno plot to it, but at the same time, Kyra decided that it was about time she got to experience something porno-like in her hitherto rather conformist sex-life. No matter how nervous she felt about it.

Im sure youre going to think me terribly old-fashioned, Carlos, but would you mind switching off the light?

Sure, Kyra, if thats how you want it. Even though Id rather be able to see the look on your face when you find out just how big my weapon is, he said, with a tone that at once connoted arrogance and intense sexual self-assurance.

Finally getting her panties off in the newly gloomy room, he lent over and rammed his tongue forcefully between her legs, attacking her clit with his tongue as though there was no tomorrow. And indeed, after a few scant seconds of pleasure (although even this was more than she had known from any man before), Kyra discovered that tomorrow would indeed never come. Not for her, at least. Because the first eight of sixteen inches had just penetrated her head. Damn, said Charlie, I hate it when I cant get the whole thing in.

No such problems with Max. He purported to be a &#8216;total top&#8217;, but as soon as he laid eyes on Charlie, he wanted it all inside his tight hole. &#8220;Right here, right now!&#8221;. Charlie was only too happy to oblige, and was soon ejaculating thrust after thrust of his thick cum into the condom inside Max&#8217;s ass. Max groaned and moaned like a schoolgirl who had just been fucked for the very first time. His own cock remained soft, yet all the while he begged for Charlie to fuck him harder! harder! harder still! give it to me, bitch!; and once the first round of fucking was done, he begged for Charlie to do it again.

&#8220;With pleasure!&#8221;, exclaimed Charlie, and reaching for his second weapon of mass destruction, he ruined Max in a way that left the latter screaming, writhing, and calling out like some forlorn, high-pitched disco diva relic from the 1970s. Just what unholy perversion was this? Max was still alive even after having had the sixteen inches of vengeance forced so deeply inside his rectum that several of his internal organs were no longer even in tact. And he wanted more!

So that is just what he got! Charlie turned the sixteen inches of goddamn vengeance around, to reveal two vast spiked balls on the other end. How complete was his mastery of torture devices shaped like giant genitals, and how complete were his awesome testi-kills!! Cutting to the chase without further ado, Charlie slammed the balls ferociously against Max&#8217;s entire body, until what remained was fit only to be made into meatloaf. And that is precisely what Charlie did. It was the first hearty meal of which he had partaken since dining with Peter, and he felt nourished both physically and spiritually by it. So much so, that he planned to attend church the very next morning.

&#8220;No!&#8221;, the trembling priest exclaimed. &#8220;It was the others who did the killing. I was there, yes. And maybe I should have said something. But I didn&#8217;t lay a hand on Chris myself!&#8221;

Yet Father Felix might as well have saved his words. For at that precise moment, the thin wood in the centre of the confessional was splintered apart, and a sixteen-inch-long motherfuckin&#8217; mega-cock came hurtling towards his chest like an errant SCUD missile.

Charlie spoke to the martyr&#8217;s corpse as he withdrew his awesome weapon from its final target.

&#8220;I should confess something, father. I exaggerated my cock size. Actually, there are only fifteen-and-three-quarter inches of vengeful tool.&#8221;

The Heavens and the Earth were finished, and all their vast array. On the seventh day, Charlie finished his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. Charlie blessed the seventh day, and made it holy, because he rested in it from all his work which he had created and made.

Any bio of me is excellent, however meandering.The last chapter was especially good.Thanks, Heinz. You're so sweet.

Actually, I want to say something more, but have to read it again. Very good word wizarding, Heinz. Are we surprised?Nope.

Later: Jeezus. Heinz, there's, uh, more to you than I had known.Loved the, uh, Meiwes touch in 'Max.' Odd for a vegetarian.It's, uh, creepy ... brilliantly so, and verrry well worded.This is unique, unlike any other (as Mozart said, praising Salieri).A high mark in a specialized niche in 'Fictitious Stories.'

I suppose so. I can't say that its originality is what struck me, though. Or maybe, in my case, 'got through to me' would be a better way to put it.

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I would have put this in the "cathartic satire" forum if we'd had one, but I had to make do with "fictitious stories". It is just a story, though, a metaphorical 'what if?' that grew out of a chance joke remark in a PM. Four hours after that joke was made, what you see above hit these boards. Any similarities to actual persons, living or killed by sixteen-inch dildos, are purely coincidental.

Gold Member

It sure is funny, isn't it John? The funniest part was how each of the savagely murdered victims represents one of the Moderators. I laughed until I cried! In fact, I didn't sleep a wink last night - I was too busy *rofl*ing and *lmao*ing!!! IT'S A MOTHERFUCKING RIOT!

Two thumbs up for Poetic Justice! A hearty "Bravo!" for Spladle's revenge!

It sure is funny, isn't it John? The funniest part was how each of the savagely murdered victims represents one of the Moderators. I laughed until I cried! In fact, I didn't sleep a wink last night - I was too busy *rofl*ing and *lmao*ing!!! IT'S A MOTHERFUCKING RIOT!

Two thumbs up for Poetic Justice! A hearty "Bravo!" for Spladle's revenge!